Cross My Heart, Hope to Die
by lepomme
Summary: There had always been bad blood between Orbaz and Darion but it went deeper and darker then anyone truly realized. Warning for slash and dark themes.


I wanted to write something to make sure you all know I'm still around. The lack of update is more lack of time and the fact I'm taking time to rethink the sequel of Burden of the Heart. Also I'm going over Burden of the Heart with edits to polish it up and fix the plot holes and what not.

Thus probably only small brain devils will be put to paper like this. Just to keep you all sated until something more substantial appears. That and I got dared to write a somewhat more serious, complex, dark, and lore-based story. That means no OC's and it had to be a male/male couple. I made jokes of it earlier, but I decided to feed the crack and write something more serious then "Ode to an Empty Seat" thus this was born.

I hope you enjoy. This is to get back into the groove of writing, you don't have to agree or like the story or the context. The story has a dark theme and is far more morbid then usual. I wanted to capture more the Scourge and death knight feel rather then lighten the mood. They are dead and dark. This is an attempt to capture more that mood. So if you are looking for a happy story, this is NOT that story. I blame it on the weather of constant snow, rain, and blistering cold of late.

Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft or any characters affiliated with it.

Anyways, enjoy.

_**Cross My Heart, Hope to Die**_

Darion didn't understand why he was out her in the middle of nowhere, prowling about like a thief. He knew only the general idea. He had gotten a letter that had told him that it was urgent that the Highlord get in contact with the sender at some random area in the Borean Tundra. There were barely any scourge about despite who had sent the letter. In all honesty, Darion didn't have to respond or come out to meet the sender. It could be a trap. Something though in the Highlord had a sinking feeling it was worse then a trap and there was a certain closure that needed to be obtained. And thus, seized by temporary insanity, Highlord Darion Mograine journeyed out.

What Darion didn't know was why, knowing something bad was going to happen, he was going out anyways. Whatever Orbaz so urgently, and earnestly, needed to say to the Highlord was worth, perhaps the time to come out. It wasn't like that sniveling maggot could hold a candle to the might of the Highlord.

Finally finding the place to meet, some sort of rock formation that Orbaz had went to great lengths to describe, Darion took a seat on one of the flat stones crossing his arms, scowling. Now all there was to do was to wait and see if Orbaz showed his face. The seconds dragged into minutes and the minutes were turning into years quickly. To the impatient Highlord, Orbaz might have as well taken a century or two to show up and not the twenty minutes that was the reality.

Orbaz Bloodbane carried himself with the air of someone who wanted to be important but was more a whipping boy of higher powers. It was a sad sort of pride that Darion had come to regard with a feeling of disgust and associate with the man. Perhaps it was why he had always been wary of the other. He held himself like the Lich King, talked liked a lich, and followed orders like a humble lover. It was a mix made in Hell. The Highlord crossed his arms, frowning as he eyed up his old comrade, "Well, well Bloodbane. Seems you managed to get yourself promoted with me out of the way, yes?"

The Scourge death knight came to a halt a respectable distance away from Darion, not giving a smile or any sort of rise to the Highlord's taunts, " I did not come here to fight. At least not today, Darion," Orbaz said simply, "If you want to turn this into a fight that is your choice,"

"It wouldn't be a fight. It would be a slaughter," Darion responded, eyes level on Orbaz, "and I'm surprised you show such humility. It isn't like you,"

That earned a slight twitch of a smirk from Orbaz as he drew carefully closer, testing how close the Highlord of the Ebon Blade would allow him get. Darion kept his eyes on him warily as he toed the line of proximity, "Perhaps, Darion, but now isn't the time to let my pride do the talking...this is more important items of discussion between us then something as trivial as that,"

"You speak in a lot of riddles now as well. Has the Lich King completely re-wired your mind?" Darion drawled, eyes narrowing slightly.

"The Lich King is a generous leader. You just let your hate blind you but I didn't come to discuss our difference of opinions, I came to discus us," Orbaz said taking a seat, fixing Darion with an unblinking gaze.

Darion felt his stomach sink and knew where this was going. He had always had his suspicions, "Us? What us?" he growled, "I've always hated you and you've always wanted me gone to claim your own power,"

"You've always thought that but you've always been wrong. I've always admired you. Your power, your steel, your mind, body and soul," Orbaz said lightly.

His tone was earnest and caused a chill to run up Darion's spine, "So you say. If you could you would become the Lich King yourself,"

"So _you_ say, Darion," Orbaz mocked back inching closer, "The fact is, I haven't stopped admiring what you have..."

A warning light was going off in Darion's mind and he began to move away as Orbaz drew closer, unaware of his own unconscious retreat from the scourge death knight. Something was not right here. Orbaz should be acting brash, uncaring, not ...obsessive. Not like...how he was acting. But then, it had been that darker more suppressed aspect of Orbaz that Darion had misjudged and ignored because it was better than acknowledging it in the past. He wanted to convince himself that this was odd for Orbaz. The truth was, he knew it wasn't.

"Is that why you called me out here for? To get my autograph and beg your way into the Knights of the Ebon Blade? I would never trust a traitor like you," Darion sneered forcing himself to a standstill and pull himself to his full height. He wasn't about to let Orbaz win any sort of victory over him.

Bloodbane stopped inches in front of Darion, eyes narrowed, making eye contact steadily, "I would never beg my way into anything, Darion. I don't admire you like that, as some sort of idol. My...admiration is more...how do you say it? More with the heart I think is how it is said,"

"You don't have a heart to speak of, Orbaz," Darion said crossing his arms, "We are done here. This is a waste of my time,"

Orbaz gave a dark grin, something feral blazing in his eyes that was half madness, half completely sane. Orbaz made his move, and it was an unexpected, suicidal, and rash. It caught Darion off guard.

He hadn't expected Orbaz to attack so suddenly without some sort of warning. He let his attention slip leaving himself open and he was cursing himself for dropping his guard around the treacherous worm. Orbaz was weak and he took that for granted. The hit came hard and fast striking against his helm causing his senses to ring and his skull to throb. Darion staggered catching himself on the rock, forcing his mind to focus and get up to fight. If he could just get his sword out...but Orbaz was not letting go of his advantage and pressed his body like a ram against the Highlord pinning the other to the rock. He brought a cold blade against the Ebon Blade Death Knight's throat but couldn't do the final cut. The strong gauntlet grip of the Highlord held the blade in a deadly stalemate for blade could not penetrate the cold sarnoite armor without the right force and concerned with holding the blade away, Darion could not draw his own weapon to slay Orbaz. They were locked in a deadly embrace.

"I could try to kill you, but even in this position you would win. You are stronger, more brilliant then anything the Lich King has created," Orbaz's breath was hot against Darion's ear, "I don't love you, I don't hate you, I'm completely infatuated with you, Mograine. If I could, I would make you mine but now is not the time...I called you out here to let you know,"

Darion had frozen up. His body was refusing to respond at those devilish words and he could feel a heat rise in his cheeks. The Highlord managed to form a twisted leer shifting his gaze to Orbaz's "You are a sick, twisted freak. Nothing but a pawn of the Lich King,"

"Always so full of spite. That is your weakness, Mograine. You are so arrogant and confident that no matter what, you'll get away. That in the end, the Lich King won't get you back somehow," Orbaz said stepping back, "Next time we meet, I'll be ten times more powerful and able to force you to submit,"

That sad pride had returned in Orbaz's demeanor as he sheathed his blade stepping away. Warily, Darion stood up whipping the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth from where he had bit his own lip in anger, without care, "I'll have you in pieces on the floor, Bloodbane. I'll enjoy slitting your throat," he growled.

The other death knight seemed to shudder at the threat, a grin across his face, "I look forward to that fight,"

"Why wait? Why not right now?" The Highlord brought a hand to the hilt of his blade, muscles tensed as adrenaline and rage surged through him, "Going to flee back to your master like the coward you are?"

Orbaz laughed, "I don't flee, Mograine. I simply want the atmosphere to be...perfect for our battle. The blood, the pain, the agony on your face will do nothing to limit my infatuation, only fuel it. Don't act like you don't think the same. You want me under you, in pain, back in your grip to throttle..."

"I do," Darion admitted, "But I don't see your point here,"

But he did. He saw how Orbaz was grinning at him, nearly licking his lips like a starved wolf wanting to wet its maw with his lifeblood. To the Scourge death knight, there was something erotic and primal in violence that made him thirst for it. Even when they were comrades in arms under the Lich King, he had seen that desire and passion Orbaz had expressed only when in the throes of battle. It was more like a dance with a lover then a battle with an enemy.

Honestly Darion had thought him a terrible necrophiliac in secret. Perhaps that thought was still true for Darion himself was not alive...

"You are a sick man. Sick in soul," Darion growled again, "You are a power hungry fool and you can fantasize about me all you want, I'm not going to listen to this shit or give in to your games," The Highlord let go of his blade handle and turned, opening a death gate, "Next time we meet, I will kill you. It would be nothing short of mercy,"

"you will try, Mograine. You will fail," Orbaz sneered back, a sense of anger in his look, "You can't lie to me! I know you feel the same way! You enjoy the violence, the darkness, the decrepit nature of your soul just as much as I do! Even your so called allies can see how much you enjoy violence and death! You relish in just as much as you did when under the Lich King! No light can change your nature!"

Darion did not say a word and let Orbaz work himself into a frenzy at his silent rejection. The Highlord simply stepped through the death gate leaving Orbaz to howl and curse him for not agreeing outright with all he said.

The truth of the matter was he did enjoy the violence and death on some level. All death knights did. It was an integral part of their nature that could not be forgotten with a simple seeing of the light. The difference though was Darion didn't embrace it as if it was life itself, he knew self-control. The Highlord felt disturbed, confused, and felt a shiver of some other emotion he couldn't place down his back that made his blood freeze. Orbaz Bloodbane was obsessed and Darion Mograine now knew who the object of that single-minded pursuit was.

"Damn him," Darion growled as he stalked through the halls of Ebon Hold heading to his chambers.

The final confrontation could not come to soon. This had to be finished not just for Darion's sanity, but for the very soul of Orbaz. To save the scourge death knight was to preform the mercy of a swift death and let him die. Maybe it would be some small comfort that he man he desired would be the one who served up his head on that day.

One could only hope.


End file.
